Little something I thought of when I was listening to "Rain" by Hollywood Undead. Please enjoy!
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The deserted side road consisted of damp soil which clung in clumps in the intricate patterns under Jean's shoes. His head was limp, his chin only centimetres away from touching his upper chest. Jean could feel the, what felt like, billions and trillions of little raindrops pitter-patter over the top and back of his head and his dark grey, which had practically turned black because of the sloppy weather, farmers shirt with his sleeves yanked up to his elbows. His hands – well, his clenched fists - were jammed in his pockets simply because he didn't want the damn things dangling by his sides.
Jean had taken a slow but sure liking to this type of weather. Rain had made him feel at home, even when he wasn't. The particular coolness of the tiny droplets caused his emotions to flare yet keep them still locked deep inside of him. You could say that he loved the rain, loved the dark storm clouds, loved it when abrupt flashes of white light came to his sight.
"I don't mind, no, I don't mind, I don't mind the rain.." Jean began to sing feebly. "The simple things and subtleties, they always stay the same.. I don't mind, that I don't mind, no, I don't mind the rain.. Like a widow's heart we fall apart, but never fade away.."
Ever since they were little, that song in particular had aided both Jean and Marco, his, no question about it, best friend. His best friend that he loved to death.
Jean felt his eyesight become blurry and his voice cracked majorly a few times as he kept singing softly to himself.
Plap. Plap. Plap. Plap.
Jean reminisced back when he and Marco had made plans, when they were little, to measure how long this side road was. 'We'll use my dad's tape measure!' Marco said with one of the most excited and ecstatic grins you would see and young boy wear. Jean rolled his eyes. 'Marco, a tape measure isn't long enough.' Even though his idea was put down, Marco perservered. 'Then we'll buy how ever many tape measures we can until we can measure it! I promise you, Jean Kirschtein, we'll measure this road before my death! Got it?' Said the freckled child to the other. Jean felt unsure by his friend's sudden choice of words, but a promise was a promise. '.. Got it.'
Jean choked on an upcoming sob.
"You broke your damn promise.." He muttered, and clenched his teeth. Without really pausing to stop his walk, he raised his right leg behind him, wound up, and furiously kicked at the soaked dirt road as if it was its fault that he friend was no longer with him.
He remembered the day it happened. He was at school, sitting in his little elementary desk, wondering every twenty seconds where his friend was. Marco hadn't picked up his home phone that morning, so it was clear that he was unable to walk with Jean to school that morning. It was just passed lunchtime when his teacher came into the room with puffy red circles around her eyes and her expression solemn. The kids had been fairly loud and rowdy before she had came in, but, seeing her then, they all faded into silence and stared at her expectedly.
"Class.." Jean remembered how she started to speak, her voice awfully crackly and it was obvious she was holding back the waterworks. "Do y-... D.. Do you see that empty desk beside Jean Kirschtein?" She asked the class, having to pause for a moment to halt herself from sobbing. Every child turned behind them or turned their head left or right; every kid had their eyes on their classmate's desk, Marco Bodt's, for at least seven seconds before they all lifted their gaze back to their teacher. "Well.. Marco.. Will, um.. W-Will not be.. coming back to this classroom anymore."
Jean remembered how wide his eyes had become; so wide that it had dried his eyes in a matter of seconds. He remembered how his jaw simply just dropped when he, and the rest of the class, had been informed of the dreaded news that day. Every child began sobbing within a matter of minutes, some even immediately began writing 'I'm Sorry' letters to the child's family. Well, not family. Marco's father. His mother had driven the child a bit early to school because the weather was so terrible, and in turn, got a large truck smashed into the passenger side.
Jean remembered slowly standing, not saying anything, and leaving the room swiftly. He remembered his fist smashing into the glass mirror in the boys' washroom and remembered how it had never felt better to bleed.
"I don't mind, no, I don't mind, I don't mind the rain.." Jean began again. "The simple things and subtleties, they always stay the same.. I don't mind, that I don't mind, no, I don't mind the rain.. Like a widow's heart we fall apart, but never fade away.." He jolted in his shoes, wondering who the hell was that that sang that last part along with him. He turned his head quickly behind him with a gloomy glare upon his features, but it soon faded into the look he had when he was a child and recieved information of Marco's death.
But.. there he was. There.. he fucking was.
"You're singing our song." He said, his voice as heavenly and soft as he had remembered, hearing it last seven years ago. Jean saw that his words did not match his mouth movement and his voice sounded echo-y almost. This contact must have been just for Jean's viewing and listening. He came closer, his legs moving as if he was actually walking – actually there. His transparent form didn't frighten Jean, yet only made him.. he couldn't find a word for it, but he realized it made him almost happy.
"Does it hurt just to know that it's all gone?" He sang softly, his eyes making sappy contact with Jean's. His transparent hand raised as soon as he had gotten close enough and gently caressed Jean's cheek. All Jean could feel was an eventual warm, tingling feeling upon his cheek, but with him, with him.. He could feel it, feel his friend's cool skin, feel his flesh under his fingers again, even for a moment. "I can feel the pain in the words that you say, hidden in the letters that were written to no name. Let me be the hands that you hold to your face 'cause I'd give it all up if I could take it away. Together now, Jean."
Jean was absolutely stunned and shocked, still trying to realize that it was indeed his best friend's soul standing directly in front of him, touching him. He reached out as he turned his body around fully and guided his hand down until he felt that tingly warmness again. Marco smiled. Jean was holding his hand.
"I don't mind, no, I don't mind, I don't mind the rain. The simple things and subtleties, they always stay the same. I don't mind that I don't mind, no, I don't mind the rain, like a widow's heart, we fall apart, but never fade away, fade away."
"I'll always be by your side, Jean. I'm your guardian angel now, even though I'm not strong. But you're strong. I can feel your sadness at night, Jean; every night. Don't mourn, I'm better off in Heaven. It's very nice there, very relaxing. I can't wait until you join me, Jean. I miss you a lot. I think about writing you letters sometimes, but, heh, I don't think that's possible. So please, for now, be safe. Be happy. Live your life. Don't live in the past; the past is the time behind us and we have to focus on the future, not accidents that happened so long ago. My mother and I talk about you a lot, you know. She still believes that you're her long lost son or something. I say it's silly but she keeps on keeping on. We're both doing fine, Jean. Please don't be concerned about us. To be honest, I sing our song sometimes, too. It reminds me of the great times we've had together. But please, don't be sad anymore, it only makes me sad. So live, get married, get a great job and die when you're 104. Just know, while you're living, I'll always be watching over you, taking care of you.
Goodbye Jean. I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that you'll focus on the future from now on. Don't dwell on the past anymore, it only wears you down. I love you."
Just as he had said those final words, he faded away into nothingness. Jean remained standing a few more seconds, but collapsed to his knees soon after. He couldn't believe that Marco had visited him in spirit form. But now.. Jean was more confident. Marco was there for him, just not beside him.
A tape measure now took the place from where Marco had previously been standing. Jean couldn't help but chuckle, take it into hand and gently place it inside of his jeans pocket and stood. He turned back around and continued walking on, a helpless grin making his way onto his lips. Jean hand't even been aware of the tears that had streamed down his cheeks and dripped off of his chin, but it wasn't like it mattered. That was a thing of the past, near past, but still past. He was focused fully on the future now, nothing was able to hold him back.
"I don't mind, no, I don't mind, I don't mind the rain..."
..